Life In Her Shoes
by Katrina Puffinstuf
Summary: He never knew what it was like to be in her shoes... after a little mishap in his Potions class, he found out, and never could look at her the same way again. hg/ss; one-shot.


**a/n: Hello all... I was rather stuck on chapter six of 'Eleven Years' for awhile, so I wrote this one-shot instead to clear out the cobwebs. As always, it's everyone's favorite ship, hg/ss. So enjoy :)**

**And I'm thrilled that so many of you liked 'Divisions' so much! **

**Happy Reading!**

**Life Inside Her Shoes**

"This potion is something that I guarantee that none of you students here have ever seen, nor experienced," spoke Severus Snape to his seventh year NEWT level course. "This is because it is something that I have developed myself over the course of many years. After many minor alterations and minute changes, after laborious hours of testing and observation, Professor Dumbledore has finally allowed my highest level students to brew and test this potion." He rapped his wand against the blackboard three times as the instructions for the complex potion appeared instantaneously onto it. The title above it read 'Momentary Mind Switch Potion'. The class immediately paired off and began working.

Professor Snape, however, continued: "This potion is not to be taken lightly... as I have brewed it painstakingly so many times, I know best that the slightest error could cause rather _unpleasant_ memories to be irreversibly placed into the other person's mind." He said this all very carefully; if this was an ordinary wizarding level course, he would not even bother with the warning--too many of his younger students could care less about the subtle art of potionmaking, and so, _he _could care less about them. This class of twelve brilliant young minds was the exception to his Teach With The Iron Fist of Harshness rule--to be fair, each of these young witches and wizards had the potential to be the next great Potions Master... or Mistress, for that matter, though there were four females who had passed his entrance examination to the course with a high enough grade that he could not deny (no matter how much he _wanted_ to) entrance into the course. Two were from his own house--Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson, Luna Lovegood from Ravenclaw, and, of course, Hermione Granger.

He had sneered at her test as he saw that the girl answered even the trick questions on his examination correctly. He had placed them there to weed out the speed readers, the people that miss the subtle details, favoring a fast pace over careful brewing. Potions was not about speed... it was about perfection. And Hermione Granger was voraciously chasing perfection with every cell in her Gryffindor body. As much as the girl annoyed him with her constant stream of questions during every class, there was no way around it from letting the girl take the course.

"Let us be extremely cautious when slicing the foxglove root, make sure to slice with the knife at a slight right angle, not the left!" he said imploringly. He strode around his classroom, correcting mistakes when he saw fit, adding bits and pieces of advice to those who may have needed it--never congratulating a student on a job well done... for the potion was never correct until it was brewed perfectly, and one could not know that until the potion was, in fact, tested.

He passed Harry and Hermione, who did not seem to be having any trouble at all. _No help from Potter, it seems..._ he thought to himself as he saw the girl muttering instructions endlessly out of the corner of her mouth. Harry followed them to a T, but most likely did not even understand what significance they had regarding the potion itself. He was in the advanced class because Professor McGonagall pushed it so that he would be allowed to enter into the Auror program, which did require at least one Potions NEWT. He barely passed the entrance examination, although Snape was rather amazed that he managed to pass in the first place. Now that he had Hermione instead of that Weasley twit as his partner, he was doing far better in Potions than he ever had done before. The girl, perhaps, taught him a thing or two.

Hours passed, and a strong, musky odor had filled the room as each of the cauldrons bubbled and churned the Mind Switch potion within. Professor Snape had taken to sitting at his desk, trying to grade papers. However, he was distracted--in a few more minutes, the potions would be all stoppered up and ready to drink with only one ingredient remaining--much like the Polyjuice potion, it needed a hair from the person who you wanted to switch minds with. It was _his_ potion that _he_ developed, and it was nearly ready to be tested for the very first time... this could really put him on the map as being one of the greatest potions brewers of the age. To be a master of potions was one thing, but to invent them from nothing was another level of fame and fortune, entirely. And this one was very groundbreaking... it would allow two people to "walk a mile in the other's shoes", so to speak. If taken correctly, one could actually know what it felt like to _be_ another person that actually existed... something that not even Legilimency could do.

The professor checked his watch and called out, "Time!" Coming to the front of the class, he said, "Your potions should have had adequate time to brew and steep. Please lift your potion from the cauldrons and place it into a flask with a piece of your own hair inside of it. Then, hand it to your partner." He watched the class follow his instructions, tension mounting in the air all around him. Draco Malfoy, who had been partnered with Pansy Parkinson, looked quite less than eager to enter the world of the girl that had a rumored insatiable appetite for him. Seamus Finnegan looked mildly amused as he held the flask that held a one-time trip into the mind of Luna Lovegood, while Luna seemed a little too excited to delve into the persona that was Seamus. Harry and Hermione looked at each other rather cautiously.

"Are you sure you want to switch with me, Harry?" asked Hermione nervously. "I'm not sure if I'm ready to have the mind of a boy... nor the body for that matter. I never wanted to know what having a, well, you know..."--she lowered a voice, pointing one of her fingers downwards--"a _thing_... felt like."

Harry shifted uneasily, saying, "Yeah, I never really imagined myself without one... but I suppose if I'm to turn into you, I'll have to go through a few hours without one." He seemed to go a little green at the idea of it.

"Right," she said, eyeing his flask with trepidation.

"Let's just do it, we have to pass this class, right?" he said, handing her the flask containing one of his own hairs. Just as he went to hand it to her, something hard, heavy, and hot hit his hand at a high speed from behind him. He cried out in pain as he whipped around instinctively, the sneering face of Draco Malfoy laughing under his breath, putting his wand away sneakily, as the flask slipped from Harry's fingers, crashing to the floor with a deafening clatter in the otherwise silent room.

"Potter!" yelled Snape from across the room immediately after he heard the glass breaking. "If I had known that you would be _this_ careless while handling this potion, I would not have let you into this class!"

"Sir, Malfoy hit my hand with a--"

"Silence, Potter, I will not have your excuses," he said. "Twenty points from Gryffindor, and I will be speaking to Professor McGonagall about the importance of your entry in this class." The boy glared up at his professor with a stony, angry face that was unyielding, and yet, he knew that he had not only ruined his own grade, but he had put Hermione's otherwise perfect record into jeopardy. Hermione looked at Professor Snape frantically.

"Professor, who will I switch with?" she asked with a plaintive note in her voice.

"It looks to me that you will not be switching with anyone now, Miss Granger," he said plainly. "Perhaps you should choose a partner that actually cares about the result, next time."

Hermione's face fell, knowing the inevitable drop that her grade would see if she could not test the potion today. She was silent for a moment, but then, she lifted her head, saying, "But it is _your_ potion, Professor Snape. Wouldn't six test pairs of this new and innovative potion be better and more convincing than five?"

Professor Snape may not have had any discernable change in his features when the girl said this, but she had struck a chord with him with those words. It was surprisingly cunning of her to use his prospect of fame and fortune to bend him to her wish to test the potion on someone, her tone of voice so flattering, almost adoring. Unfortunately, he was unable to get that sixth test pair without denying another person of a grade. There was only one option, as much as he loathed to actually go through with it. He had a stoppered flask already prepared with the potion, containing one hair that he plucked off of his own head. It was inside of his desk--he would be the pair to the sixth test. Part of Hermione's pair... As much as he hated the idea of jumping right into an adolescent girl's mind, but there was no other option here.

He swallowed hard as he looked the girl in the eye saying, "Miss Granger, there are no other students in this class for you to switch with. However, _I_ am prepared to... trade minds with you, if you consent to it."

Hermione jumped at the chance without thinking about it. "Of course, sir, thank you!" she said as relief washed over her, her features totally relaxed, even happy. Her grade was not in trouble, as she had thought moments ago.

"Very well, then," he said, his voice droning in monotone, clearly not very enthralled at getting to know Hermione Granger in this very up-close-and-personal way. He pulled the bottle from his desk, revealing a rather unpleasant looking contents inside, colored a dark, putrid green. He could see Hermione recoil ever so slightly as he thrust the bottle into her hands. She handed him the bottle of her essence, which seemed to look a good deal more palatable, its color being a clear, deep purple. All the same, they both now looked as if they wanted to be doing any other thing in the world than drinking the contents of those bottles.

"Unstopper the bottles and..." he said, trailing off, scrutinizing the little flask as if it contained a very deadly poison. "Drink up..."

-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-

As he held the flask to his lips, he could smell the potion-- the strength of it burned his nostrils, though the smell was not altogether as unpleasant as he thought it would be. It smelled reminiscently of grape fizzy soda, something that he had drank as a young child. As soon as he tasted it, however, he immediately began feeling the effects of it. Something odd was happening inside of his head... the switch was taking place. He felt as if something inside of him was trying to get squeezed inside of a bottle... a bottle that was too small to contain whatever was trying to get inside of it. After the initial feeling of a strangulating tightness, the feeling of relief and comfort settled around him, as if he was wrapped in a soft, warm blanket. Immediately, Hermione's mind, her thoughts and her world as _she_ knew it filtered into his mind. It seemed that he could still think his own thoughts at the same time as thinking _her_ thoughts, though his thoughts had no bearing on what she actually _did_. He had kept his eyes shut tight during the process, but as he opened them when he finally felt comfortable in her skin, he nearly swooned at the sight.

Everything seemed slightly larger, and the floor was a great deal closer. Immediately, his head turned Harry Potter, who was sulking at his desk, still. Without his controlling it, he felt the significantly shorter legs of her body walking quickly towards the desk at which he sat. During this short, but brisk walk, Snape learned a plethora of things about being a 17 year old girl--the first of which being the feeling of breasts. Round, supple, and very bouncy during quick ambulation. The second--Harry Potter was her very best friend, the person that she, very literally, ran to whenever something odd happened to her.

"Oh, Harry!" shrieked Hermione, Snape feeling almost sick to his stomach as he felt that best-friend feeling just as she would towards the boy that had been nearly a picture-perfect resemblance of the man that tortured and ruined his Hogwarts life. He could feel her thinking about what to say to him, and then she did, saying, "I feel so... weird. I... ugh... can't really explain it."

Harry shrugged, saying, "Good thing it's only temporary. Besides, you agreed to exchanging minds with the git."

Snape felt himself get very indignant at the boy. "You know, sometimes I think you are worse than Ronald! At least you aren't always trying to snog me!" Immediately, a picture floated across his mind, a moment in time in which Ron was pressed again her in a darkened classroom. _Great_, he thought, _she has a photographic memory_. Then, he felt her gaze turn towards an even more awkward sight--_himself_.

"Oh my," uttered Hermione under her breath. He could feel her heart begin to race, sweat beginning to pour out of her pores nearly uncontrollably. "Professor Snape... you are... well, rather... I am... oh, goodness..." More mental images began flowing across Hermione's mind, passing directly into Snape's semi-detached mind... someone else was now kissing her in a darkened room, although this picture was fuzzy, not so much a part of her photographic memory--this must be a figment of her overactive imagination. Hermione blinked, clearly trying to get the image out of her head--she felt guilt, Snape noted, about this thought, _especially_ as she confronted him. Interesting...

"Miss Granger, for being a brash little brainiac, you seem to be at a loss for words at _this_ particular experiment," uttered the body of Professor Snape, inside of which contained the mind of Hermione Granger.

At this remark, her heartbeat increased to a breakneck speed, and Snape wondered if the girl was going to start hyperventilating to keep up with it. The sweat was coming at a rather embarrassing rate, now, and she started muttering something, clearly distracted by the images forcing their way into her mind's eye. Now, she imagined herself getting pinned to a bed by this mysterious imaginary man, this figure in her imagination. _My, my_, mused Snape, as the man in her thought ran his hand through her hair, pulling it so that her neck would be exposed to his hungry lips, _Miss Granger is not all pure and pristine in thought, after all..._

However, Hermione still controlled her actions, and, before anyone could stop her, she ran out from the room, not even taking her books or bag with her. Fear, embarrassment, and guilt radiated from her mind. She ran at a breakneck speed up to Gryffindor Tower and into her bedroom, which made Snape feel a slight bit uneasy and impure–he never thought that she would leave the classroom to find sanctuary in her own quarters. Part of him felt as if he was violating her, in some way. The other part of him felt, however, that this was all part of the experiment. Suddenly, once she was alone, tears began running down her cheeks, hot, wet, and unpleasant. Snape did not cry often, and the last time he did was so long ago that he did not remember what it felt like to cry; the feeling of the tears made him feel nearly sick to his stomach. The images flowed freely now, and though Snape was prepared for dozens of new, odd feelings and thoughts, what she was thinking was something that he had never had the foresight to envision.

_"Professor, could you help me with this?" said Hermione innocuously at a desk. She looked normal physically, although her attire was rather questionable; for one, her skirt was very short and her shirt left next to nothing to the imagination. "I'm finding it hard to believe that asphodel and rosemary could blend and simmer in this way to create the effect of this particular draught... surely, _you_ could tell me the secret behind this..."_

_Professor Snape strode over to her, clad in trousers that fit in all the right places, enhancing particular parts of his anatomy in excess, and a soft silk shirt, dark green, and slightly open at the chest. His hair drifted lazily into his eyes, and he gazed at her with something akin to seduction playing across his features. "Yes, Hermione?" he said, putting one hand on the desk she sat at, the other on the chair behind her, leaning towards her... far too close for proper teacher-student relations. "Ah, yes... this is a tricky potion to understand... I could teach you everything about the infusion of asphodel and rosemary..." he said as Hermione turned to him, her eyes absolutely revealing her arousal. "But I could teach you other things, too, however, far more interesting and..."--he drew a finger to her cheek, tilting her head upwards towards his face, so they were inches apart--"bewitching to the mind..." He kissed her gently, running his tongue along her soft lips. "Ensnaring _your_ senses... something that a mere chat about potions simply cannot do..."_

_Suddenly, they were kissing each other, fulfilling a hunger that had laid dormant within both of their bodies, unable to be fulfilled because of the stricture of their positions in this school. Now, it did not matter, and he was pinning against the desk that she had sat at throughout all of his potions classes at Hogwarts. He had snaked his arms around her into a tight embrace, pulling her onto his lap as he sat down in the seat she had faithfully occupied throughout seven years of education... she straddled him, her heat radiating against his erection as she pulsated against him instinctually, carnally... _

_"Professor," she said into his ear in the dirtiest, horniest voice that she ever imagined herself to utter, "I'd really like for you teach me something..."_

_As the man wrenched her shirt open and off, he revealed her to be wearing a black bustier tied tightly at the back with black silk. He gazed at her, taking in her beauty, panting, saying, "I'd do anything for you right now..."_

_The girl on his lap leaned into him, gyrating her body against his tempting, saying very quietly, "I want you to fuck me over and over again with your enormous, hard--"_

If Snape had a jaw to drop, it would have hit the floor with an earth-shattering, resounding crash. As it were, all he could do was sense Hermione's arousal, a slick wetness between her legs, fighting the urge to touch that spot where it was so moist and pleasantly lubricated. He simply observed within her mind as he saw the image of himself flashing across her mind. She drew the hangings around her four-poster, taking a quick look and listen around her, making sure she was utterly alone. As she slunk into her bed, Snape felt her finally succumbing to the desire to touch herself, images of himself doing incredibly lewd things to her as she endeavored to bring herself to a climax.

Snape had to admit that this was definitely one of the strangest situations he had ever found himself in, although he never thought he would be an object of lust of one of his brightest students. As he pondered, he found her heart to be speeding up, and everything started feeling far, far _too _good. In fact, it was beyond anything he had ever felt, before. As the girl began her finish, he felt so overwhelmed that he could not bear it. As she squirmed and moaned loudly, he could almost feel himself doing the same with her, twisting his body and arching his back, finally coming upon it, that sense of release... the shuddering, perfect relief that a good orgasm brought.

Snape's mind was blank, numbed, and absolutely content. In his experiences with sex, he had never had an orgasm that was even half as fulfilling as the one that he had just experienced with her. And this was something that she felt simply by her own hand. Gods, if she only knew what it actually felt like... she _didn't_ know what it felt like! Snape could feel her longing for it, for as active and dirty as her imagination was, she was still a virgin, still pure and rather untouched by the less gentle sex. Why did she choose him as the object of her fantasies?

Her thoughts answered all of his questions immediately... there were images of the two of them talking together... studying together... working in a laboratory together... he taught her, and she learned... she had a genuine appreciation for his intelligence, but was that enough to fulfill her desires? Was intelligence, alone, able to make her fantasies come true? Her thoughts answered that, too...

As she breathed deeply, the musky scent of sex in the air filled her nostrils, and she found herself imagining a sleeping Professor Snape curled around her body. And he leaned over to her... and he whispered those famous three words... three words that he had never uttered to a female in his entire life. She envisioned them holding hands... kissing... going on dates... the sexual element was downplayed completely--after an orgasm like that, her need for sexual satisfaction had been sated for the time being... her thoughts reflected this. _Thank Merlin_, he thought, _I don't know what I would have done if she were up for another round of that..._

As she drifted off to sleep, he felt a strange feeling taking place. It seemed as if he was getting pulled out of that warm, tight blanket that he was ensheathed in, pried out roughly. The potion was wearing off, and soon, they would be back in their own bodies, their thoughts and mind intact.

-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-

Professor Snape opened his eyes to find himself flat on his back on his bed, staring up at the top of his four-poster bed. He felt as if he had just ran seven miles straight, minus the sweating and the out of breath feeling. His body ached slightly, and he immediately wondered how he got into his room, especially since he was supposed to be teaching a class. As he got up from the bed, he felt something thump against him in his robe's pocket. The flask and stopper...

Then, all of the feelings and sensations that he felt while within Hermione's mind and body came back in full force. Her tears, her guilt, her feelings towards Harry, her nervousness around... well, him... and... all of those dirty ideas that she had about him. Those ideas that brought her to a climax that not even _he_ would never forget.

Without really thinking about it, the professor walked up the stairs in a direction that he had taken while in Hermione's body--the steps towards the ugly portrait of that Fat Lady... the entrance into Gryffindor tower. He approached the Fat Lady boldly, remembering all too well the password to the tower, saying, "Ginger Balls. Gods... why is that your password? Too many Weasleys in your house over the years?"

"Up yours, Slytherin," she said, giving him a very rude hand gesture, indeed. "I wouldn't let you in if my canvas depended on it!"

Luckily, he did not have to mar her already unsightly canvas, for the person that he had gone looking for had stumbled out of the portrait soon after, looking frazzled and pink in the face, her hair a total mess, as if she just rolled out of bed. Snape smirked at her, knowing that she did, in fact, just roll out of bed. After a mind-bending orgasm that could've shaken the very foundations of this castle.

Right.

As soon as she saw the professor smirking at her, she blushed further saying breathlessly, "Your potion is, quite possibly, the worst thing that has _ever_ happened to me." She stared at him coldly, continuing, "I thought I would find out so much about you, perhaps an ounce of compassion or a little bit of goodness, the tiniest bit but there was nothing! All I saw was that you really don't even seem to allow emotion other than your usual snarky attitude... I would have thought you'd have an ounce of sensitivity or _something_... but I got nothing... and you... you _saw_...everything."

"You could say," he said, still smirking at her, "that I got a very thorough education. It was a role reversal, I was the student, you were the teacher... hmm?"

"You were never meant to see those thoughts," she said bitterly. "You manipulated me to do that... somehow..."

"Oh no, Miss Granger," he said, "you know that those thoughts were real, but so were your actions. That was all you, Hermione. I was simply an observer, detached and innocuous."

"With the thoughts of me touching myself all over your mind, now!" she shrilled a little too loudly. People began staring at them from around the staircase. Professor Snape took her by the wrist roughly and pulled her into the nearest empty classroom, avoiding the onlookers successfully. She opened her mouth to speak, but the professor closed the gap between them, putting a finger over her lips.

"It's time for you to listen," he said, the smirk now a ghost on his lips. "I created that potion so that people could get a better understanding of each other. Haven't you noticed, Hermione, that so many of the problems in the world, magical _and _Muggle, revolve around misunderstandings and misconceptions about the ideals and cultures of different peoples of the world? Imagine, if we could understand each other... if we could get into the minds and see from other points of view?"

"Well, I suppose--" Hermione tried to say, only to be stopped by his hand fully covering her mouth, now.

"Even on the small scale, with you and I," he kept on, "I learned so much... I learned about how much you rely on Mr. Potter for a friend. I learned what it felt like to cry. To say the words 'I love you' and mean it! For Merlin's sake, I felt a female orgasm, Hermione!" Even though she blushed uncontrollably, he plowed onward, saying, "Most importantly, I saw how differently you think versus the way I do... and that is the biggest lesson of all. It is one thing to believe that we all see from different points of view, but to actually witness it firsthand? It is priceless..."

"If I taught you so much," she said in a sarcastic tone, "how come you are still just as rude and domineering? If I showed you my kinder, gentler point of view, how come you are still a bloody pompous bastard!?"

"Because," he said, shoving her against the wall, his lips moments away from hers, "I know for a fact now that it is what you desire..."

Hermione's eyes widened as the man that she had desired and dreamed about for years kissed her on the mouth with an intensity and fervor that she had never experienced. Her heart sped up almost painfully, and she surrendered to the man's tantalizing lips and kisses... just as she felt as if she would melt into his very skin, he pulled away from her, his breathing heavier than normal.

"But... but..." she began to protest, but Professor Snape held up his hand saying, "No, Miss Granger, you've had quite enough for today. I've learned so much about you, but I have to admit, your experience in _my _mind appeared to be quite less fruitful. If you want to pursue this, you will have to do it the hard way... through getting to know me without the aid of my brilliant potion. Through talking. Interacting. Perhaps I could teach you something new..."

Hermione wanted to say something, anything, but nothing seemed able to leave her lips. She knew she was boxed in, for he knew that she wanted him in many more ways than one, and what's more is that he seemed to want her, too. He laid a hand gently on her cheek, saying, "It's amazing what you can learn in someone else's shoes..."


End file.
